


Snake Charmer

by s_l_y_t_h_e_r_i_n_d_o_l_l



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dark Hermione Granger, F/M, HeadBoy, HeadGirl, Hogwarts, Seduction to the Dark Side, Sexual Content, corrupted hermione granger, heads au, the relationship progresses into adulthood
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:00:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27735748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/s_l_y_t_h_e_r_i_n_d_o_l_l/pseuds/s_l_y_t_h_e_r_i_n_d_o_l_l
Summary: The more she trusted him, the more she wanted his hands on her. In her hair and on her neck. She longed to be vulnerable in their custody. He knew how to take her to heaven, but he preferred to drag her through hell first, and she felt the angel in her vanish, and the devil in her beg for more.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 2
Kudos: 76





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This story will not include
> 
> ~ A fluffy romance between Draco and Hermione
> 
> ~ Morally perfect characters of which would be wonderful role models to you and/or your children
> 
> ~ Relationships that have my stamp of approval
> 
> This story will have
> 
> ~ Characters that exhibit questionable morals
> 
> ~ A sinister Draco Malfoy
> 
> ~ Eventual corrupted Hermione
> 
> ~ Mature and explicit content

Hermione heaved a tired sigh, resisting the urge to close her book and settle for glaring at her dark-haired best friend instead. Or rather simply ignoring him altogether and opting for looking out the window at the scenery that flew by as the Hogwarts express flew along the track. Her other best friend entered the compartment, saving her from the temptation.

"What's got you lot in a twist?" he asked, taking note of the looks on both Hermione and Harry's faces as he sat down.

Hermione raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow at Harry, a look that screamed 'should you tell him, or should I?' on her face. When Harry made no move to say anything, she rolled her eyes, turning to face Ron.

"Harry is under the impression that Draco Malfoy is now a Death Eater," she confessed.

Ron spluttered, and Hermione smirked, satisfied with his reaction. He turned to face Harry, a look of incredulity on his face.

" _Malfoy?_ Sniveling daddy's boy Malfoy?"

Harry huffed, visibly annoyed.

"I saw what I saw, and what I saw looked like some kind of initiation," he started again.

"Harry…"

Harry glared at her, lips pressed together, and green eyes practically glowing.

"You are the brightest witch of this age, Hermione! I refuse to believe that you are this… _dense_."

"I beg your pardon?" Hermione gasped, offended that anyone would dare use the word dense to describe her.

Harry muttered something while running his hand through his hair before leaning forward.

"His family and his friends have always bought into that blood supremacy bullshit, Hermione. His father is one. His aunt is one. Surely, you didn't expect him to be on _our_ side when the time came, did you?"

Hermione shifted in her seat, reluctantly mumbling a quiet 'no'.

"Okay, so… Why is the thought of Malfoy following in his family's footsteps so...so… _outrageous_?"

Hermione pursed her lips as they both kept their gazes on her, awaiting her response. Ron was merely curious, wondering if she would buy into this while Harry so desperately wanted to convince her that the possibility of Draco Malfoy being dangerous now was very high.

"You have…a point, I will admit. No, the idea of Malfoy sporting a Dark Mark now isn't…preposterous. With that being said, it's _Malfoy_ , Harry."

Harry's shoulders slumped, and she continued.

"He's never been one to have much of a…backbone. He always has been what my father would call a paper man, taking almost nothing to make him crumble. I suspect that becoming a Death Eater requires…a decent amount of bollocks, one might say, something that Malfoy has never had."

She threw him one last sympathetic glance before returning to her book. She could tell that Harry wasn't very pleased with her answer. However, it did seem to placate him enough to let the subject drop…for the time being, at least.

* * *

"I…I don't understand," Hermione said, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as she regarded her professor.

Professor McGonagall's face held a somber expression.

"The Headmaster and I feel that the chances of many of you returning next year are quite slim, especially with the way things are at the moment. We collectively made this decision to give you something that you've worked very hard for, something we fear you might not be able to experience next year," McGonagall explained.

Hermione could hardly believe what she was hearing, but her confusion did nothing to diminish her excitement.

"So there will be _four_ Heads this year?"

"Not quite," McGonagall began as she stood and made her way towards her student. "You and the would-be Head Boy for next year are still technically Prefects. However, if either of the current Heads are not available, that responsibility will fall on one of you. If they should ever need extra hands, the two of you will be the first choice. You will have a bit more authority than the average Prefect, and lastly, the two of you will have your own dormitories just as the Head Boy and Head Girl would."

Hermione released a breath that she didn't know she was holding, eyes sparkling in delight. She took note of McGonagall's growing frown.

"I had hoped to tell you both this at once, but it appears that Mr. Malfoy is running late. I simply couldn't wait any longer, and I suppose that I'll have to inform him when he finally deigns to grace us with his presence," she tutted.

Hermione blinked, enthusiasm slowly dying as she registered McGonagall's words. _Of course_ , Malfoy would be Head Boy. It didn't exactly come as a shock, but she was still disappointed, nonetheless. She nodded, taking her leave as McGonagall dismissed her.

She walked along the corridor with her head down and a blinding smile on her face. Her fingers were dancing and playing with one another, excitement coursing through her veins. She too had worried about next year, worried if they would be coming back, at all, and as superficial as it sounded, Hermione had indeed worried about not being able to be Head Girl. She'd worked so hard for that, and it was _finally_ paying off. All of those late nights she'd spent bent over a book, and all of the teasing she'd had to endure from her friends was finally worth it.

So filled with excitement was she that she didn't notice the tall fair-haired figure that walked past her, only taking note of something being off when the smell of jasmine lingered in the air.

* * *

Hermione watched the beautiful bird fly off, already wondering how soon he would write back. She'd had no intentions of coming up to the Owlery so soon, but it was her first day back, and she couldn't contain the exciting news that she'd been privy too. Not even the fact that she had to share a dorm with Draco sodding Malfoy could diminish her spirits.

She released a happy sigh, looking out over the school grounds with something akin to contentedness. Fall was practically upon them, and the approaching season, her favorite season, only helped to lift her already good mood. The only thing that broke through was the faint smell of jasmine wafting through the air, and she frowned the smallest of frowns.

She looked over her shoulder to see a tall figure cooing to an owl. His back was facing her, but she recognized that blond hair nonetheless. He was sporting a simple black jumper with black slacks to match, the fitted shirt clinging to his arms and back. Hermione didn't realize that she was observing him so wantonly, admitting how well the combo suited his fair hair and complexion, and fit figure, something she'd never noticed before. She frowned before looking down and away, wondering what had gotten into her.

"Writing to mum and dad?"

She jumped, startled by his voice as she had not expected him to acknowledge her presence, at all.

"No," she softly replied, having no urge to elaborate.

"A boyfriend then, perhaps?"

She looked up again to see the dark feathered creature perched on his hand, perfectly content to allow the Slytherin to stroke her, long and gentle fingers trailing over her as if she had glass for bones.

"A friend… Viktor," she finally confessed.

He hummed, eyes never leaving his feathery companion as he spoke.

"I didn't realize that the two of you still kept in touch," he offhandedly commented.

"We don't talk regularly, but… We converse several times a year," she said, wondering why she was telling _him_ this.

He'd made no derogatory remarks towards her nor attempted to curse her or anything of the sort. He appeared to be being civil, and so, Hermione returned the favor. Nevertheless, she still warily eyed him and took a step back as he approached the window, cooing at the bird one last time before allowing it to take flight. She felt heat rise to her face as he looked down at her, eyes the brightest she'd ever seen them, almost appearing to be white as they caught the sunlight.

"Do you mind if I have a word with you?"

She frowned, taking another step back as she regarded him, suspicious.

"No…I don't mind," she finally said, crossing her arms over her chest.

Malfoy leaned his shoulder against the wall as he copied her, forcing the fabric of his jumper to stretch over him.

"I want to formally apologize to you."

Hermione was sure that the shock she felt was displayed all over her face, if the small smirk that graced his lips was anything to go by. She took a few seconds to gather herself before replying:

"For what?"

"For everything. For my behavior from the very first moment that we both set foot into Hogwarts," he answered.

She blinked, taken aback and unsure of how to respond to that, so he continued.

"I was a foolish boy who was raised to believe certain ideals and beliefs, beliefs that I no longer agree with…" Hermione frowned at that, her confusion visibly evident "…I was trying to impress the wrong people, people that fool-heartedly believe they are better simply because of who their parents are. I find it quite…embarrassing that people who are supposedly superior can't even manage to go beyond the bare minimum of what is to be expected of them. Wouldn't you agree?"

He tilted his head, gazing at her in question. Hermione nodded in agreement, still at a loss for words.

"It takes more than simply _saying_ you are the best to actually be the best. It takes skill and discipline and intelligence, something a lot of those people do not possess. It is something that we have, though. Hence, why we find ourselves in the position that we are in, now." He took a step towards her. "I'm not just apologizing because we're going to be living together for a year, and I wish to make my life easier. I'm apologizing because I sincerely regret my actions. I was ignorant and stubborn, and quite frankly, an idiot…in more ways than one."

Hermione _still_ didn't know what to say, too rooted in her place by shock to utter a word.

"You don't have to accept my apology. You're not obligated to, and you have every right to continue hating me-."

"I never hated you," she interrupted with a shake of her head, finally speaking.

It was the truth. Despite everything, she found that she had never hated Malfoy, could never find it in herself to. She was, however, always at a loss as to why he seemed to hate her so much. Of course, she _knew_ why, but hating someone over something that was out of their control, like their parentage, for example, was always a baffling notion to her. It was something that she had _never_ been able to understand, that confusion only growing when she continued to prove that she was far better than any pureblood to have ever walked these corridors, and he continued to hate.

"All the same, here's to a year of us getting along," he proposed, hand outstretched.

She eyed him before hesitantly clasping her hand against his, a shudder passing through her when his fingers grazed her wrist.

"Okay," she agreed.

Even after Draco Malfoy was long gone, Hermione ran the ordeal over in her mind in awe, the scent of jasmine still clinging to her robes.


	2. Blood

"He's lying."

"Maybe," Hermione half-heartedly agreed, distracted.

Harry looked up at this, catching her attention.

"No. No 'maybe'. He is lying," he forcefully said.

Hermione sighed. She too had considered the possibility that Malfoy was indeed lying. However, she couldn't exactly figure out what reason he would have to lie. Malfoy was never one to hide his bigotry and play nice for the sake of being polite. He had no qualms about being an insufferable arse, so there was no valid reason other than genuine regret as to why he would suddenly change his tune, and this was what she told Harry.

"I'm going to pretend like you didn't just say that as if our entire conversation on the train yesterday never happened."

"You already know how I feel on the matter," was her reply.

"Yes, a naïve stance, really," he said.

She made a face at him, opting to try and focus on her book.

"Blimey. I still can't believe that you'll be living with him this year. I mean, I'm happy for you, because we all know how much you've wanted it, but… Is it worth it if you have to put up with Malfoy?"

"Well…" she flipped the page "…if he is indeed being truthful, then I'll have no trouble from him, and if he's not…at least I'll have my own room."

Harry snorted, clearly disagreeing with either her comment about Malfoy's apology, or her logic.

"Did you see that we have potions with Slytherin?"

"Thanks for the reminder, mate. I was doing a good job so far of forgetting about it," Harry complained as Ron sat down.

"Apologies. At least the upside is that we don't have to put up with Snape _and_ Slytherin. Slughorn's teaching the class," Ron replied.

"Perhaps, Hermione can partner up with her new friend, and the two of them can leave the rest of us idiots in the dust," Harry mumbled.

Hermione set her book down, looking at Harry in disbelief, taken aback by his immaturity.

"What's he on about?"

Hermione had just opened her mouth to answer when Harry cut in.

"It seems that Malfoy has apologized to Hermione, wanting to wipe the slate clean and start over as friends," the sarcasm and mocking tone was heavy in this one.

Ron barked out a laugh, clearly thinking Harry to be joking, only settling down when he noticed the hard look on Hermione's face.

"Wha- Hermione. He can't be serious," he chuckled.

"There was never once a talk of becoming _friends_ , Harry. I do believe I specifically said 'a year of getting along'. Is there something wrong with that?"

"Uh…yeah. The fact that you think he's telling the truth, for one," Ron threw in.

"Whether or not he's telling the truth will be revealed in due time-."

"I think Malfoy is the last person you want to give the benefit of the doubt to, Hermione," Harry interrupted.

Hermione paused, closing her eyes and repressing a sigh before beginning to collect her things.

"Where are you going?" Ron asked.

"To finish my book in my dorm," was her answer.

"Oh, come off it, Hermione. You can't seriously be getting upset with us because we're not buying into Malfoy's crap?"

"It's not about that, Harry. It's about the fact that you're handling this very immaturely. What's the point of growth and change if you aren't going to acknowledge it? Sure, Malfoy may be lying, that's actually very likely, but he's always been nothing more than a bully. I seriously doubt that giving him the benefit of the doubt is going to put me at Voldemort's feet."

She didn't give either one of them time to reply, leaving the table in a flurry.

* * *

Hermione quite liked their dorm room and knew that it wouldn't be long before she preferred to spend most of her time on the comfy couch. It was round with a fireplace, bookshelf, and door opposite the portrait entrance. Her room was located on the left with Malfoy's set directly across from hers. The center of the room was occupied by a table and several places to sit including a couch, chase lounge, a single chair, and several cozy cushions that molded around one's body.

It was comfortable and most of all, quiet.

She didn't mean to leave Ron and Harry in such a huff, but they were making her feel…silly for not immediately dismissing Malfoy's apology. She was smart yes, but book smarts didn't necessarily have anything to do with judging one's character. Hermione actually considered herself to be a pretty good judge of character. Either way, it didn't matter. Time would tell if Malfoy was being sincere or not.

 _Speak of the devil, and he shall appear_ , she thought as the entrance opened, and the object of her thoughts stepped inside. Hermione was honestly unsure of how to act around him, but since they only intended to be civil to one another, she didn't think that meant she _needed_ to initiate conversation. She lowered her eyes just as he turned around and went back to reading her book.

She hid her surprise well as he sank into the chair to the right of the couch before pulling out his own book and a few pieces of parchment. _Perhaps he meant what he said, after all_. Familiar mocking laughter infiltrated her brain immediately after that thought, the sound of Harry and Ron's voices calling her a fool.

"I'm surprised you aren't with your friends," he commented, distracted.

She cast her gaze on him to watch him alternate between reading and jotting stuff down.

"I wasn't really up for discussions about Quidditch and the like," she lied.

A small smirk danced along his lips, visible even with his head down, as if he somehow knew that she was lying. He didn't reply, and Hermione figured that was the end of that. However, it wasn't long before she realized that she was reading the same three sentences over and over. Her index finger had begun to tap the hard back cover of her book, mind going in circles. Eventually, she gave up and set her book down on the table, catching Malfoy's attention.

"Do you mind if I ask you something?"

Malfoy glanced up and set his own book down, and the parchment with it, leaning back in his chair as he gave her his undivided attention. Hermione swallowed, unused to his unwavering gaze without some sort of malice on the receiving end of it.

"Yesterday evening…when you spoke of superior people who don't go beyond the bare minimum and all that… What exactly did you mean? Were you being specific or…?"

Malfoy shifted, throwing one ankle up to rest on his knee before clasping his hands together in his lap. He held her gaze for a moment, not uttering a word as they regarded one another. Eventually, his smirk grew, and he spoke.

"I think you know exactly what I meant…"

Hermione didn't respond, and so he continued.

"Why should someone be considered better than others simply because they say they are, or simply because of what family they were born into? Look at Crabbe and Goyle…" he sneered, and Hermione snorted "…they can barely tell magic from Santa Claus."

She nodded in agreement.

"I hate to bring your friends into this, but look at Weasley too. All three are examples of wizards who come from pureblood families, but can hardly execute a simple levitating spell. It's embarrassing, a stain on the Pureblood legacy," he complained, top lip curling over his teeth.

Hermione didn't want to insult Ron, he was her friend, but he was a far cry from a prodigy.

"…and then we have witches like you," he whispered.

Hermione looked up, catching his gaze, something unfamiliar and intense resting there.

"Both of your parents are muggles, and yet, you're probably one of the most skilled witches to walk these corridors," he confessed with a frown.

Hermione flushed in a mixture of shock and embarrassment. Never did she ever think she'd see the day where Draco Malfoy admitted that she was a talented witch.

"Sure, I mean-."

"We both know that it's true. Feigned humility doesn't suit you, Granger. You're one of the best, and you know it," he cut in.

Hermione reluctantly nodded, unsure of how to respond.

"I used to really hate you, you know. Being second best was foreign to me, and your parentage only made it that much worse since, according to my father, I should be better than you in every conceivable way."

"I-," Malfoy waved away whatever she was going to say, already moving on.

"It doesn't matter, now. He was…he's a fool," he finally said.

Hermione leaned forward in her seat, book completely forgotten, now.

"What…what brought all of this on, if you don't mind my asking?"

He crossed his arms over his chest, eyes drinking her in in a way that made her feel… _warm_.

"I am a pureblood, you are a Muggleborn witch, and we are the top two students in this bloody school. That simple fact was enough to make me realize one day that what my father believed in was a crock of shit," he finally said.

Once again, Hermione didn't know what to say. Malfoy leaned his head back, letting it rest on the back of the chair, eyes focused on the ceiling.

"There's no such thing as Purebloods vs Half-Bloods vs Muggleborns, Granger. In this world, there are wolves, and then there are sheep. Alphas and omegas. There are those who were born to lead, and those born to follow, and we…" he suddenly gestured to himself and to her frozen form "…were never born to follow. We're leaders, you and I, the true definition of intellectual superiority."


	3. Venom

The very next afternoon found Hermione stomping into their shared dormitory, the portrait slamming shut behind her with a little more force than necessary. Malfoy was in a similar position as the day before, book and parchment spread out over the table, bent over with a few strands of hair falling into his face.

"Penny for your thoughts?" he murmured, almost uninterestedly.

Hermione opened her mouth to tell him to bugger off when she paused, thinking better of it.

"No," she finally sighed.

"Suit yourself," he replied.

Hermione frowned, practically at her room door, now. For once, Malfoy wasn't the one to piss her off, and he wasn't likely to gossip. What could it hurt? Making up her mind, she dropped her bag and books onto the floor, frustration seeping into her bones.

"We'd all agreed to meet up in order to get a jump on our assignments, but they decided that Quidditch was far more important. Even _Ginny_ ditched me!"

She huffed, slamming her books onto the table.

"Well, what's the subject?"

"Arithmancy," she sighed, plopping down onto the floor.

She felt his eyes on her and looked up to find that her suspicions were correct.

"What?" she asked, rather rudely.

" _I'm_ here, and this is purely for fun," he said, waving towards his own book.

Hermione frowned, almost turning her nose up.

"Don't be ridiculous. We aren't friends, Malfoy," she said.

"…but you need- well, you don't _need_ to study, but you would be less of a pain if you actually got to study, and besides… When have you ever turned down an opportunity to show how much smarter you are than me, Granger?"

By the growing smirk on his face, they both knew that he had her. With a sigh, she reluctantly agreed, and opened her book. Being civil with Malfoy was…odd, to say the least. Exchanging superficial pleasantries was one thing, even discussing the absurdity behind pureblood supremacy was one thing, but _studying_ was something else entirely. Perhaps it was just her. After all, Hermione did always view studying as a rather intimate matter, academics very near and dear to her heart.

They'd studied for all of an hour when Hermione suddenly felt herself being shaken. It took her a minute to get her bearings, blinking and flinching away from unfamiliar hands. A few seconds passed before it took her to realize where she was, and she frowned.

"I didn't think you'd appreciate me leaving you out here to sleep on the table," a familiar voice drawled.

Hermione's vision finally cleared, and she glanced around.

"What time is it?"

"Only a little past seven," Malfoy answered.

Hermione didn't even remember nodding off. She hadn't even realized how tired she had been. She struggled to stand up, legs numb, and would have fallen had it not been for her dorm mate. Heat traveled through her frame when his fingers splayed along her arm and back, the fabric of her shirt practically equivalent to nothing, at the moment.

"Thanks," she murmured, finally righting herself.

She froze, feeling her back brush against his chest, a shudder traveling down her spine at the action. His breath wafted over her head, jasmine and mint chasing after each other within the air. She took a step forward, kneeling down to collect her things.

"Thank you," she said, much clearer this time.

She reached out to grab her books when his own caught her eye. She'd barely glanced at it when Malfoy grabbed it, collecting his parchment, as well, but not before she caught a glimpse of the word 'Dark" somewhere along the cover. If Malfoy noticed her curious gaze, he didn't say anything.

"Sleep well, Granger," he threw over his shoulder.

"Night," she quietly murmured, the words bouncing off of his room door.

With a slight frown, she slowly made her way towards her room, shaking her head, hoping to knock out unpleasant thoughts.

* * *

"Sorry about yesterday, Hermione," Ron sheepishly said, sliding into the seat next to her.

His words barely registered within Hermione's head, and she frowned, hardly sparing him a glance while responding.

"It's quite alright, Ron. I know how the three of you can be when it comes to Quidditch, and even I must admit that I sort of twisted your arms into studying with me," she murmured.

Her head was bent down, hands rifling through her bag as panic slowly began to set in. Where on _earth_ was her book? She swore that she'd dropped it into her bag after studying. Hell, she even remembered complaining about how much heavier it made things. Godric help her, had she forgotten it, or worse, lost it? This was not good.

Harry and Ron noticed her struggle and growing frustration.

"Hermione?"

"I can't find my book. If I have to go looking for it, there's a good chance that I might be late to class," she complained.

The term had only just begun. How irresponsible would that look if she already started showing up late?

"I'm sure it will turn up," Harry reassured.

Hermione threw him a look.

"We have Snape, today. What are the chances of it turning up within the next forty-five minutes?"

Harry grimaced, suddenly sympathizing a bit more with her panic.

"Well, it's clearly not in there. Take a few minutes to eat at least," Ron suggested.

Hermione shook her head, already starting to stand up.

"I'm going to run back to the dormitory for just a moment, see if it's there…"

She didn't give them time to protest before she sprinted off. However, luck was not on her side, because neither her room nor the common room contained her book. She checked every possible place she could think of, even attempting to 'accio' it to her with no such luck. Without giving it much thought, she made her way to the other side of the common room, fist rapping against Malfoy's door. She wasn't even sure if he was in there, but she didn't recall seeing him at breakfast.

His door opened, and she opened her mouth to speak, only for her words to get caught in her throat. Malfoy was still in the process of getting dressed it seemed, shirt parted to give a tease of his alabaster skin, the hard contours of his chest rendering Hermione speechless. His tie was resting on his neck, each end being pulled taught by his hands as he held it.

"Yes?"

Hermione blinked, suddenly remembering the reason she'd knocked in the first place. She gazed up at him, relieved to find a neutral expression on his face. If he'd notice her slight scrutiny, he didn't comment on it.

"Um…I've seemed to misplace my book. I was wondering if you'd seen it lying around," she answered.

A slow smirk crawled onto his lips, and Malfoy leaned against the threshold, eyes twinkling.

"You've misplaced your book, have you? That's quite irresponsible, don't you think?"

She rolled her eyes.

"Please don't make my morning any harder than it has been. Have you seen it or not?" she asked again.

His expression did not change.

"No, I haven't. I'll look around for it, though before I leave," he said.

Hermione blinked, taken aback by that.

"Thank you," she slowly murmured, eyebrows furrowing just before he closed the door.

She walked back to breakfast, mind going a mile a minute. Hermione knew that Malfoy had apologized, and was basically turning over a new leaf, but it still took her by surprise. She was still expecting him to sneer at her and call her names. Of course, who could blame her? Years of bullying and scornful remarks prevented her from accepting his changed behavior with ease.

Breakfast was a quiet affair on her part, still pondering over the whereabouts of her book. The chances of Snape actually calling on her in class for once were slim, but Hermione's luck always had been a hit or miss. She felt like today of all days would finally give Snape a legitimate reason to humiliate her in class.

She trailed beside Ron and Harry as they made their way to their seats. She'd hardly contributed anything to the conversation, but they didn't seem to mind all that much. They knew how caught up she could get in things that the two of them deemed as insignificant, so they figured it best to leave her be. Hermione had just slid into her seat when she felt a presence to her right.

Hermione looked up to see Malfoy towering over her, fully dressed now, with a crooked smile decorating his face.

"I think you're losing your touch, Granger," he said.

She frowned before her eyes fell onto his outstretched hand, her book in his grasp.

"Thank, Merlin…," she breathed.

"Thank _me_."

"Where was it?" she asked, looking back up at him as she took it, fingers grazing over his own as she did so.

"Underneath the couch," was his answer.

Hermione frowned, stumped.

"…but I checked there. At least, I was sure that I did," she whispered.

Malfoy shrugged.

"I ran into McGonagall in the corridor. We're to be patrolling, tonight. Something about a nasty bug and detention," he grumbled.

"Yeah, sure," Hermione halfheartedly replied, already flipping through her book.

She didn't hear him leave, only realizing that he'd done so when Harry all but rounded on her.

"What, you two best mates, now?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, refusing to even spare him a glance as she replied.

"He found my lost book and returned it to me, Harry. I don't think that suggests that we'll be gossiping over tea and crumpets any time soon," she murmured, distracted.

"For all you know, _he_ could've taken it," Ron threw in.

At this, she _did_ look up.

"If that were the case, then why return it? Surely if Malfoy had taken it, then he would have done so to humiliate me in some way. Seeing as he returned it to me before class even started…I doubt that," she deduced.

Neither one of them could argue with her logic, and instead settled for leaning back into their seats, clearly displeased. Snape entered the class then, instructing them to open their books, and Hermione caught Malfoy's eye, sending him a barely noticeable grateful smile.

* * *

"I take it that your sidekicks weren't happy with our little display this morning," Malfoy drawled.

The only sound throughout the corridor was that of their shoes against the stones, wands shining light onto their otherwise dark path. Hermione repressed the urge to sigh.

"You returned my book to me. Hardly a display," she grumbled. "…but yes. They weren't as appreciative as I was."

"They don't trust me," he stated.

She glanced at him, her silence the only answer they both knew he didn't need.

"I don't blame them. They have every right not to," he continued.

"They don't exactly believe in second chances," she whispered.

"Do you?"

"We wouldn't be having a civil discussion, right now if I didn't," she replied.

Malfoy chuckled, an unfamiliar sound, one that made her heart falter.

"That's awfully trusting of you…"

"Everyone deserves a second chance," she quietly said.

Malfoy hummed, thoughtful.

"Everyone? Even say…someone like Voldemort?"

Hermione blanched, shooting him a scathing look as he chuckled again.

"Even I must admit that there are some exceptions to the rule… I'm surprised you even spoke his name," she mused.

"Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself."

Hermione paused, gazing up at him as he did the same. She was sure that a rather funny expression was working its way onto her face, but she didn't care. She blinked before continuing on.

"Yes…that's right," she finally agreed.

"You look a bit stunned," he commented.

"Quite observant, aren't you? No, I just… Well, yes. I suppose it is a bit shocking that you'd throw that back into my face. Even more so that _you_ believe it. Ron still feeds into the whole you-know-who thing, sometimes."

Malfoy snorted, and she knew what he was thinking.

"Don't utter a word. Your opinions about Ron have always been made perfectly clear…"

"Well, that's because he's kind of a sad excuse of a wizard," he said matter-of-factly.

"You don't know him. Ron is actually quite brilliant when he wants to be," she defended rather harshly.

"Retract the claws, Granger. I assure you, Weasley's honor is still intact," he joked.

Her face heated up, and she chewed on her lip.

"Sorry," she murmured.

"A shame you fancy the bloke. You could do so much better, if you ask me…"

"Well, no one asked you-!"

Hermione cut herself off, stopping to stare at him with wide eyes.

"How did you know that?"

"It's obvious," he deadpanned, rolling his eyes.

"It is?"

Was it really that obvious? No. Surely, if it was, then Ron would have…he would have noticed, right?

"Weasley's a tad dense," Malfoy answered her unvoiced question. "I'm almost certain Saint Potter and the she Weasley know."

Hermione didn't respond, walking beside him in silence. Malfoy hardly even knew her, knew them, so if he could tell… She shook her head. Malfoy was right, Ron always had been a bit oblivious.

"It's never going to happen if you don't speak up, you know…"

"I am _not_ taking relationship advice from you, Malfoy," she spat.

"You don't have to, but I'm sure even you know that closed mouths don't get fed. I caught wind that Weasley is going to try out for the Quidditch team… If he makes the team, surely you don't think you'll be the only girl who notices how _dreamy_ his eyes are?"

Hermione looked down at that.

"What bloke is going to resist any pretty girl practically throwing herself at him?"

"Not every male in this school is like you, you know," she threw at him.

She could see the faintness of a smirk on his lips as he took a step towards her.

"You honestly don't think that Weasley would turn down a shag from, let's say, Daphne Greengrass, do you?"

Hermione flushed in anger, eyes narrowing as she glared at him.

"Ronald would _never_ date someone like-!"

"Ah, ah. I didn't say anything about dating, did I?"

Hermione huffed, looking away.

"Daphne's a pretty witch. There's no doubt in my mind that Weasley would jump at the chance to get with a girl like her, even if only for a night. Of course, she's just an example. Albeit a terrible one, because let's face it, she'd never even look in Weasley's direction, but I digress. There are plenty of witches in this school who are probably eyeing Weasley. Why do you think you're the only one?"

"I don't…"

"Oh. Well, then I suppose you suspect he'll continue to play this awkward dance the two of you have been playing for years then?"

"No-."

"Then what? You clearly have no intentions of making your feelings known anytime soon. Are you waiting for him, because we both know that could be a while…"

Hermione's shoulders slumped, defeated.

"I don't know," she finally sighed. "Why do you care, anyway?"

Malfoy shrugged, one hand in his pocket.

"You've been pining after him, and I suppose that I pity you. You should get it over with, and put yourself out of your misery," he answered.

"I…I wouldn't even know what to say. With Ron, you have to be very upfront, and I'm not sure I could just blurt it out to him. Some Gryffindor I am, huh?"

"Well, then you force his hand…"

She gave him a skeptical look.

"How on earth would I do that?"

Malfoy let out a soft chuckle, walking past her, arm brushing her own.

"Keep talking to me. I'm sure that will do the trick," he replied, half joking.

"…but…I actually rather like talking to you. Surprisingly enough…"

"Tell him that, then. Let him know how _enjoyable_ my company is, and how surprisingly well we're getting along," he continued. "I guarantee you, you'll be seeing a lot more of him at the dorm, and it won't be long before he outs himself."

"That will just make him angry," she disagreed, rolling her eyes.

Malfoy shrugged.

"Makes no difference to me. It's your choice, Granger…but googly eyes and awkward brushes of skin will only hold him for so long," he mockingly sang.

Hermione pondered this, his words eventually rolling over her back.

* * *

A few days later, Ron made the Quidditch team. Lavender Brown was there to cheer him on, and Hermione felt Malfoy's advice sink its teeth into her chest like a snake bite. And the venom spread.


	4. Heat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains sexual content

The air began to grow colder, leaves and grass crisp with the faint kisses of the approaching season. When Hermione's time wasn't occupied with class and Prefect duties, she would often find herself seated in the Quidditch stands with a book. The sport wasn't growing on her in the slightest, but she had to admit that she was finally seeing the appeal of watching –well, Ron wasn't her boyfriend, not even close– but she viewed him through the same eyes that a girlfriend _would_. All the same, she was a bit more understanding as of late as to why girls often went to cheer their boyfriends on at events like these.

Of course, her own impulsive decision to _help_ Ron definitely contributed to his newly appreciated status on the team. She enjoyed watching them practice and was even more proud to see Ron putting so much effort into it. Quidditch wasn't her thing, but it was very important to him, and it was interesting to see him so immersed in his element. It was almost as if he were a different person altogether. Unfortunately, Hermione was not the only one to notice this.

Lavender Brown had shown up to the Quidditch practices often, ever since that first tryout. Malfoy's advice still stewed within her, festering and bubbling like a rapidly spreading disease. Hermione didn't like to consider herself the jealous type, but the truth was that she was insecure. Sure, she was an intelligent witch, had even been unofficially granted the title of 'Brightest Witch of Her Age', but she was slowly –and regrettably– realizing that when it came to the opposite sex, especially those like Ron, that simply wasn't enough. Lavender was pretty and had eye-catching golden hair and a laugh that could captivate even the most focused of boys. For the first time in a long time, Hermione was feeling horribly inadequate.

It was what had forced her to give Malfoy's advice a go, albeit reluctantly, and it had _worked_. Ron did seem to throw a small fit whenever she so much as mentioned a kind gesture Malfoy had done or how they'd studied the night before. Yes, it did seem to be getting to him, and he even started accompanying her to her dorm, showing up for surprise visits sometimes. However, where there was Ron, Harry was there also.

They _both_ threw fits, they _both_ lectured her about the possible dangers of getting too close to Malfoy, and they _both_ would make themselves present at her dorm. With both of them acting like blundering, overprotective idiots, it was hard to tell where Ron's feelings on the matter came from. Was he jealous, or was he simply acting as a concerned friend, already moving on with the help of Lavender's attention?

Said girl was seated near them again, trying –and succeeding– to capture Ron's attention for the time being. Hermione looked down at her dinner, all traces of hunger suddenly gone. She shoved her plate away with a tad more force than necessary, and stood.

"Everything alright, Hermione?" Ginny asked, eyes more perceptive than she let on as she gazed at her friend with a hint of sympathy.

Hermione didn't spare Ron nor his companion a glance as she began to leave.

"Fine. Just tired," she lied with a sigh.

Harry was eating, and Ron was…occupied, so she said her goodbyes to Ginny and left.

On the way back to her dorm, Hermione wondered if perhaps Malfoy had been right. Maybe Ron was returning Lavender's attention because she was actually showing him some that consisted of more than just 'googly eyes and awkward brushes of skin'. Lavender was showing, in no uncertain terms, that she was very much interested in him. That was more than Hermione had ever done.

The dorm was empty when she entered, and Hermione was actually put out by that. When she wasn't doing school related things or watching her friends play Quidditch, she would sometimes find herself studying with Malfoy. He was smart –only second to her in marks– and took his schooling seriously. He didn't get distracted like Harry would sometimes, nor would he ever randomly announce how bored he was like Ron. Oddly enough, doing revision with Malfoy had become something akin to downtime for her. It was relaxing and often got her mind off of Ron and her lack of courage regarding her feelings for him.

She had just brought a book out of her room to study in the common area with when Malfoy's door opened. Hermione hadn't realized she'd started to smile until it rapidly faded upon catching the eye of someone who was _not_ Malfoy. She awkwardly cleared her throat at the sight of Daphne Greengrass, the other girl's blue eyes raking over her with indifference.

"Granger," she evenly greeted, adjusting her robes as she walked past Hermione and through the portrait.

Hermione stared after her, something…weird moving beneath her chest. Greengrass was pretty…and bold, and Ron liked girls like her, like Lavender.

"Apologies, Granger. You were out, but I kept all festivities within the confines of my bedroom. Scout's honor," he joked.

Hermione sighed, glancing at him before sitting on the couch, pulling her legs beneath her frame.

"It's quite alright."

"What? You're not going to preach to me about _entertaining_ guests here?"

"No," was her only quiet reply.

There was a few beats of awkward silence where Malfoy simply stared at her, and Hermione pretended to not notice by trying to read.

"What's got your wand in a knot?"

Hermione fingered the pages of her book, chewing on her bottom lip as the question seemed to bubble in her throat.

"Why do you like her?"

"Come again?" Malfoy questioned after a few seconds.

She looked up and watched as he sat down on the edge of the table, silk pajama shirt grazing his shoulder, the undone buttons giving Hermione a peek of his collarbone and chest.

"Greengrass…why do you like her? I mean…her marks are average, and she's not particularly clever. I know for a fact that she's not a very nice person, even dubbed as the 'Ice Queen' by some. However, she is pretty…so is that it?"

Malfoy studied her, intensely so, and Hermione was tempted to look away. He suddenly stood before making his way over to her, settling himself beside her on the couch.

"That's awfully…judgmental of you," he commented.

Hermione dropped her head into her hands.

"Oh, I didn't mean for it to come off that way, I assure you."

Malfoy chuckled.

"Its fine, Granger. I know what you meant… I do have to ask, is this about Daphne or that Brown girl?"

She looked up at him, startled.

"Why do you ask that?"

"I've seen them around," he said with a shrug.

Hermione turned away, frowning at the news that Ron and Lavender hung out a lot more than she originally thought.

"She bats her eyelashes at him," Hermione whispered after a while.

Malfoy didn't respond, only scooting closer, probably to hear her better, she assumed.

"She bats her eyelashes at him and giggles –overly so– at his jokes. She follows him around and cheers for him at practice and _touches_ him…in any way she can. She brushes his arm, wipes dirt from his face, and even lays her hand on his leg sometimes in the hall. She looks at him like he hung the moon, hanging onto his every word and he…he just eats it up," she continued in wonder.

"Did I not tell you? What man would resist a girl throwing herself at him?"

"…but why?" Hermione asked.

"Did you resist Krum?"

"That was different," she scoffed. "Viktor was interested in me for me. Sure, he was no genius and basically just watched me study, but he was happy to spend time with just me in whatever way. He could have had any witch –any pureblood one at that– but he was interested in me. He even wanted to remain in touch after the whole ordeal. Viktor was genuine. Lavender didn't even know Ron existed before this year, and you'd think Ron would remember that."

"He doesn't care," Malfoy laughed. "A pretty girl wants him, and since you've yet to say a damn thing to him, Granger, what choice does he have?"

Hermione stood with a sigh, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I wouldn't even know how to have that particular conversation with Ron. Do I just go up to him and tell him that I like him?"

"…and then the two of you would run off into the sunset together, get married, and pop out a couple of insufferable know-it-alls with crazy red hair?"

She threw him a scathing look to which he replied with a smirk.

"Don't be absurd. No one is talking about marriage here," she murmured.

"I imagine that's what would be on his mum's mind, no?"

Hermione paused, turning to fully face him, now. Mrs. Weasley _would_ be thinking along those lines, whereas Hermione wasn't, and she doubted that Ron would disagree with her sentiments on the matter.

"When it comes to relationships – _serious relationships_ – there is only two options, Granger," Malfoy articulated.

Her eyes widened as she registered this, realizing that he was right. If she really decided to bite the bullet, and she and Ron finally started dating, they would either eventually get married…or break up. If they broke up, there was no telling how Mrs. Weasley would take that. Hermione recalled how coldly the older witch had acted towards Hermione when she believed Rita Skeeter's hogwash so easily. The other option, marriage, was…

Hermione just couldn't see herself marrying Ron, at least, not at the moment. Both of them still had so much growing up to do. However, she wanted to be with Ron. Was that selfish? But that was how most relationships worked, especially at her age. Even she and Viktor knew that they would not last, some unspoken thing between them that they both had silently agreed to. Hermione was positive that Ron would be on the same page as her.

"I assure you, Ron isn't thinking about marriage, either," she countered.

"Of course. Naturally, the two of you will break up…amicably, I hope."

"Amicably," she quietly repeated, rolling the word around in her mouth.

Malfoy stood, a faint smile on his face as he walked towards her.

"Yes, amicably. It means, 'in a friendly or peaceable manner'," he informed.

"I know what it means," Hermione snapped, uncertainty beginning to grow in her chest.

Malfoy smirked.

"I meant no offense, Granger. The two of you are friends, so surely, _that_ is something you've thought about."

Surprisingly, no. It was not something that Hermione had thought about. What if it ended horribly wrong, to the point where Harry was forced to choose sides? To the point where Ron's family was forced to choose their own blood over her? She had never considered that before, and was now being thrown for a loop. Even after Malfoy had retreated back to his room, arm brushing against her own as he did so, she still stood there suddenly doubting everything.

* * *

"Ron, do you mind if I have a word with you?"

They both looked up at her, Lavender's eyes showing displeasure at being interrupted. Ron quickly stood, leading Hermione only a few steps away.

"Can we go somewhere a bit more private?" Hermione suggested, uncomfortable with how close in proximity they were to Lavender.

"Uh…" Ron looked over his shoulder, rubbing the back of his head. "Is it terribly important?"

Hermione repressed the urge to sigh, glancing from his anxious eyes then to Lavender, and back again. She threw him a strained smile.

"No. I suppose that it can wait," she relented.

A blinding smile broke out over Ron's face, hands briefly settling on her shoulders as he thanked her. She watched as he sat back down next to Lavender, a grin on her lips as they continued their conversation. Hermione was immediately pulled from her oncoming somber thoughts by a hand on her shoulder.

"Penny for your thoughts? Though, I can imagine what those thoughts consist of," Ginny said, pulling Hermione away.

Hermione took the other girl's hand as they walked towards a tree, the spot the perfect place for a nice view of the grounds. Hermione sighed.

"How long have you known?"

"A while," Ginny shrugged. "Harry doesn't know, but he suspects."

"So tell me… How pathetic am I?"

Ginny yanked her down next to her, clutching onto the older witch.

"Oh, Hermione. You are _not_ pathetic. Anyone with half a brain can see –could see– how you feel about Ron, how you've always felt about him," she reassured.

Hermione shook her head.

"…but that's not enough. I mean, he's interested in Lavender, now because she made her feelings known. We're not children, anymore, and I could have easily said something," Hermione said.

"That goes both ways, Hermione," Ginny harshly replied. "Ron likes you too, and he could have also just as easily opened his mouth. I suppose he must like his women the way he likes his homework; with no effort put in whatsoever."

"Merlin, Ginny, that's harsh…even for you," she commented.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I just feel like he's being such an idiot. He likes you, so why is he letting some temporary trollop get in the way of that?"

Hermione's eyes landed on a figure walking across the grounds, his dark robes making his fair hair stand out all the more. He was conversing with Theodore Nott, the dark-haired Slytherin uttering something amusing, the grin on Malfoy's face visible from even where she was sitting. Never in her wildest dreams did she think she'd be taking relationship advice from Malfoy, advice that actually made sense.

"No, Ginny. For all Ron knows, he could be imagining my glances and whatnot. I'd never said a word to him, and now he's moving on to someone who has made their intentions clear," Hermione whispered.

"That's a load of bollocks, and you know it. If you went and snogged some lucky fellow, right now, Ron would have a cow. He isn't moving on. I'll tell you what he's doing. He thinks that he can have Lavender, now, but we all know…"

Ginny's words faded into the background when Malfoy turned and caught her eye. A smirk danced along his lips just before he turned back to give Nott his attention. He said something to the other boy, just before they parted ways. With a start, Hermione realized that Malfoy was making his way towards her. Ginny noticed this as well.

"I know that the two of you called a supposed truce, but this is still weird for me," Ginny quietly commented.

Hermione glanced at her out of the corner of her eye, a small smile on her face as Malfoy got closer.

"He's really changed, Ginny, and he's not so bad," she whispered, causing Ginny to give her an almost incredulous look.

"Weasley," Malfoy acknowledged to which the other girl simply returned with a nod. "I was hoping to borrow your Potions book for the night, Granger. Due to Theo's own incompetence –he sneered the word–, I was forced to let him borrow mine."

"Sure. I don't have it on me, though," she said, already standing.

Hermione turned to look down at her friend.

"Ginny?"

Ginny seemed to contemplate Hermione's unspoken question before narrowing her eyes at Malfoy and making her decision.

"Sure," she said, standing and following the two of them.

Hermione talked with Malfoy about their last DADA lesson, even drawing Ginny into the conversation every once in a while. The redhead made herself comfortable on the couch as soon as they entered their dorm. Hermione suspected that Ginny decided to tag along because she didn't trust Malfoy, to which Hermione could not blame her. She didn't miss the look Ginny had given her earlier. After all, Hermione was the one living with him and interacting with him on a regular basis. Only she would truly be able to see how remorseful he was for his past behavior and how genuine his apology was.

Malfoy leaned against the door, arms crossed over his chest, and one leg crossed over the other.

"Today, Granger," he sang after a few moments of her searching to no avail.

She glared at him over her shoulder.

"Do you want to borrow it, or not?"

He held his hands up in surrender, and she turned back around.

"I could have sworn that I left it on my desk," she mused aloud.

She didn't hear Malfoy's footsteps as he approached, sharply inhaling when she felt his robes brush against her back. She straightened, inhaling the scent of jasmine as he reached over her shoulder. She watched as his long fingers reached underneath her Arithmancy text, sliding her Potions book out from underneath it. She turned her head, face only inches away from his own as he turned to throw a mocking smirk her way, eyes sizing her up.

"You're losing your touch, Granger," he whispered, and then he was gone.

* * *

Hermione rolled over with a huff, hoping that sleeping on her side might prove to be more comfortable. She'd been up half the night, Ronald on the brain. She didn't want to think of him, both Ginny and Malfoy's words on a constant loop in her mind, but it was easier said than done. She surmised that she'd gotten a total of three hours of sleep so far, if that.

Her legs were tangled in her sheets, the comforter long finding its place on the floor, and the thin fabric was clinging to her skin with sweat. Her neck and chest felt warm too, and she could even feel some strands of her hair sticking to her forehead. Hermione could always use her wand to dry off, but she'd feel much cleaner with another shower. Besides, the hot water and steam always managed to relax her. With her mind made up, she flung the covers off of her.

The common area was dark, but Hermione was familiar with the placement of the furniture at this point, so she didn't bother to light her path. So focused on the idea of a hot shower and some long sought after sleep, Hermione didn't take note of the noises coming from the bathroom until it was too late.

She stood in the doorway, eyes wide and legs frozen as she took in the scene before her, but neither parties noticed her presence.

A dark haired witch with a slight tan was in the shower stall and on her knees before Hermione's dorm mate. The girl's hands were resting on his thighs, unbothered by the water that was raining down on her. She was moaning, the noises escaping the back of her throat suggesting to Hermione that this was for her pleasure just as much as it was for Malfoy's. Said wizard's hands were entangled in her hair, seeming to guide her as her head moved before him.

Hermione's eyes followed the path of his arms, taking in the flawless expanse of his chest, the water traveling down every curve and ridge before disappearing to what the girl's head blocked from view. She could see the toned expanse of his stomach clenching every now and again, in sync with the tightening of his grip on her hair. Her gaze traveled upwards, taking in the way his Adam's apple bobbed, struggling to swallow as the witch continued her movements.

Hermione knew that she should have long left, so far past the line of invasion of privacy that the line was now a dot to her. If Malfoy saw her, he would surely curse her, retracting his apologies and truce in a heartbeat, but… Malfoy didn't see her, didn't even notice her.

Malfoy's eyes were closed, screwed shut, looking almost as if he were in pain, but Hermione knew better. His teeth were clenched, jaw ticking as he let out a hissing sound here and there, as if he were trying to keep as quiet as possible. His almost ashen blond hair was plastered to his forehead, soaked with water, droplets skipping down his face. Hermione felt something unfamiliar jolt through her when his teeth finally separated, and he let out a deep moan, one that had Hermione's mind reeling.

She'd noticed that Malfoy was attractive, finally seeing what so many other girls had long noticed, but she'd never given it much thought after the initial realization. However, in that moment, Hermione thought that simply calling him attractive wouldn't do him justice. Malfoy was a vision with his lips parted, guttural groans and almost feminine whines climbing out of his throat at a steady crescendo. He looked so vulnerable, so sensual, so…enthralling.

"Fuck," he breathed, lips trembling as he lifted his hips away from the wall just the slightest.

The girl before him had him in the palm of her hand, and Malfoy didn't seem to care, at all. Without warning, his eyes flew open and landed on Hermione, face conveying that he wasn't surprised in the slightest to see her standing there. She stumbled back, hand still clutching the doorjamb as he kept his gaze locked on her.

"You take me so well," he whispered, and heat flared to Hermione's face.

His eyes fluttered towards the ceiling just as a significantly louder and longer moan escaped him. Hermione closed the door, facing the common area with wide eyes. She swallowed before practically sprinting to her room, chest heaving as she threw herself back into bed. She was hot, all over and in places she'd never been before, and she knew that it had nothing to do with the temperature.


End file.
